Just A Little Valentine Story

       Clarence looked in the mirror and straightened his bow tie.  This was ridiculous; nobody wore bow ties anymore.  Then again, nobody was named Clarence anymore either.  That’s what came with getting old.  The clothes you’d always liked to wear, the name you’d always been comfortable in, were no longer in fashion; in fact, had been out of fashion seven presidents ago.  Seven presidents ago?  Clarence frowned and shook his head.  I’m too old for this, he thought, too old.

He walked to the bedroom window and peered through the curtains, the same eyelet lace curtains Helen had sewed the year before she died.  They were faded and paper thin now but he couldn’t  bring himself to replace them.  His daughter called him sentimental, saw no point in saving worn out curtains, or for that matter, her mother’s old hair pins adorned with rhinestones and fake pearls.  Well, perhaps someday he would replace Helen’s curtains, but he would never throw out her hair pins.  He was sentimental; that also came with old age and he wasn’t going to apologize for it.

But how could he explain what he was about to do now, the reason for the bow tie around his neck and the butterflies in his stomach.  He looked out the window again at the house across the street.

When Helen died, Dottie Johnson and her husband had come right over.  As the weeks went by, Dottie would often send Herb over with a casserole; more times than not, Herb stayed and played dominoes with Clarence or they’d all get together and listen to music.  Dottie was the one who went through Helen’s clothes for Clarence, instinctively knowing which items were best donated to Good Will.

Two years ago when Herb died, Clarence immediately took over some of the tasks Herb had done, like taking the trash to the curb each week and cutting the lawn.  Clarence liked doing these things for Dottie partly because she never asked him to, but mostly because she always rewarded him with her smile and some special dessert that just happened to be coming out of the oven that very moment.

Clarence crossed the room and looked at the red heart-shaped box of chocolates on the table.  Across the top of the box in fancy gold script were the words “Be My Valentine.”  He couldn’t believe how nervous he was.  After all, it was just a box of chocolates, just an old fashioned show of friendship and affection.  It didn’t really  mean anything.  But his heart was pounding and he felt wonderful.  And he knew Dottie would love them.  Then with a smile Clarence thought how both their names had been out of fashion for at least seven presidents.